


He's Got Such A Soft Shell

by RottenMint



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecurity, Splinter is a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenMint/pseuds/RottenMint
Summary: Donnie's known from a young age that he's...disadvantaged, compared to his brothers. But he's never let that slow him down, though there have been a few bumps in the road.





	He's Got Such A Soft Shell

**Author's Note:**

> Please, Rise, give me some backstory on all the bros but Donnie and his softshell and stuff especially. I WILL pay- 
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. Please enjoy!

Splinter leads them through the sewer tunnels, pointing out ones that are safe to use and manhole covers that are easier to move than others- _not that you are ever to use them, my sons, unless I tell you to run_ ; it's boring. Donnie is paying the most attention out of his brothers. Mikey is clinging to Raph's back, humming under his breath. Leonardo is looking around, especially focused on the sewer pipes that Splinter tells them not to go into.

Donnie is drawing on a notepad, mapping out the safe tunnels to take. He knows he'll have it memorized by the time they're home. His brothers won't have it memorized- probably ever- and they are _definitely_ more prone to getting lost than Donnie himself.

He scribbles over the crumpled paper in big, clumsy lines of green crayon, only looking up if Splinter points out a landmark or if his brothers start making more noise. The last thing he needs is for his brand-new map to get destroyed because of-

A stray elbow knocks the notepad into a puddle. All Donnie can do for a second is stare at it as the paper absorbs the brown-grey water. Anger bubbles up in his tiny, five-year-old self, and he whirls to face the tangled mass of shells and limbs that make up his brothers.

“Watch it you guys! You wrecked my map!” Donnie hisses. Splinter keeps droning on about pipes, oblivious to the fact that his sons have started wrestling and have ruined something of Donnie's. It’s not unusual for their dad to miss things like that at first- he's always busy- but his kids not listening to one of his lessons? He notices that right away, every time.

Except this time, apparently.

From under the mess of appendages, Raph's head appears, smile apologetic. “Sorry, buddy,” he manages between several kicks to the face, then snaps, “Leo, stoppit!” That finally draws Splinter's attention. He frowns and storms over.

“Boys.” The tone is enough to have Mikey, Leo, and Raph on their feet in seconds. Those seconds prove to be a bit too short for any of them to gain their balance, because the next thing Donnie knows, he's pinned to the ground underneath them- the spikes on Ralph's shell digging into his own.

Donnie shrieks, flailing, and bursts into tears. Leo and Mikey scramble off him. Splinter grabs Raphael and moves him like he weighs nothing, depositing him on his butt off to the side before focusing on Donnie. There's several scratches in his shell. They aren't bad, but they're bleeding enough for Mikey and Leo to start crying. Donnie gasps and whines through his tears as his dad examines him, and through his own cries he can hear Raph blubbering out apologies.

After a minute, Splinter pulls Donnie into his arms- cautious of his injured shell- and lifts him. “Come, boys, someone needs a few bandaids.” Leo and Mikey scramble to walk at Splinter's sides, both of them trying to check on Donnie as they walk.

Donnie keeps his face pressed into Splinter's shoulder. When he does decide to look up, he can see Raphael following behind them, rubbing tears out of his own eyes. He won't lie, his shell feels like it's on fire, he's never hurt like this before, and on top of that he lost his map. The sight of Raph feeling so bad, though, for what Donnie knows was an accident, gnaws at his insides. The concerns spilling from the lips of his younger brothers make it worse.

So Donnie plants his face against the side of Splinter's neck, squeezes his eyes shut, and lets them all fade into the background.

Later, when Donnie is sitting on the kitchen counter with pizza-patterned band aids littering his shell, Splinter stands in front of him with a serious look on his face.

“Donatello. You're not like your brothers-”

“I know, I'm a softshell.” Donnie lets the annoyance creep into his voice. This isn't the first softshell lecture he's had from Splinter after an injury, and he doubts it'll be the last. All he gets for his attitude is a raise of one of Splinter's dark eyebrows, which cows him into silence.

“You're not like your brothers,” he repeats, “and you know you must be more careful because of it. It is your brothers’ job to protect you, and yours to protect them. However, sometimes, like today, they will hurt you by accident. You must be strong for the times when they are the danger, and the times they cannot protect you.”

The last part seems ridiculous to Donnie. They're always together, him and his brothers. When wouldn't they be there? Why wouldn't they be there? He wonders if this is one of those weird 'fatherly ninja wisdom’ moments that Raph mentions every now and then, where Splinter doesn't make a lot of sense, but what he says is important anyways.

“Okay.” Is all Donnie says.

That's clearly good enough for Splinter. He pushes a small bowl of ice cream into Donnie's hands. Donatello thinks that a bit mysterious advice from his dad every now and then is okay- if he gets some dessert out of it.

\---

He finishes his first prototype shell a few days shy of his (and Leo's, he guesses) seventh birthday. He wants to try it out right away, toss it on and ambush his brothers when they least expect it. They wrestle all the time and now he can, too- the shell is made of the best metals and components he was able to get Splinter to scrounge up for him. The shell will make him as sturdy and as strong as his brothers.

Donnie can't remember the last time he was so excited. He decides to wait- something about unveiling it on his birthday seems more special, more monumental, than showing it off the second he finishes it. So he hides it in his 'lab’ (his room, full of a small collection of scraps and tools), and heads for the living room. Splinter recently got them a T.V., and they're all pretty obsessed with it. A movie series called Jupiter Jim is the current favourite.

Leo spots him first and waves him over, but puts a finger to his lip and points to Splinter's chair. Splinter is asleep, drool sliding down his chin. Donnie shudders, then shoots a Leo, and now Raph and Mikey, a grin. A sleeping dad means they can watch Jupiter Jim without having to bargain for the remote.

As much as Donnie loves the T.V., he wishes he could open it and the remote up, just once- he's desperate to know how it works. Something in it could teach him a way to improve his battle shell, or any of his other inventions. The first time he tried to (after finishing dinner as fast as he could and sneaking into the abandoned living room) his brothers had collectively dragged him away and back to Splinter, where he received a scolding about taking apart other people's things. Donnie argued that it was his, too. Splinter took away his television privileges for two days. He didn't try to dismantle the device again.

Mikey slides the remote from under dad's hand, slow and steady, then tosses it to Donnie, _'cause he knows what's on which channel no matter what time it is, duh, Leo_ , and Donnie finds a new Jupiter Jim for them to watch.

They all settle in, and Donnie can't hold back a smile. His brothers have no idea what's coming.

The shell reveal is… Less than spectacular.

Donnie walks in at breakfast on his birthday wearing an oversized purple sweater to hide the battle shell. It's one Splinter mentioned seeing in a clothing donation box, and Donnie wheedled that he'd love a purple sweater for his birthday, even more than those expensive hard-to-find machine parts he asked for. Splinter gave it to him the next day, didn't even mention his birthday- so Donnie's hoping his dad _did_ manage to find those machine parts.

None of his brothers say anything. Donnie's been living in the sweater since he got it, anyways, even though the hem brushes his shins and sometimes he almost trips on it.

Leo slings a casual arm around Donnie. “Happy birthday, twin.” His tone matches the teasing look on his face. Donnie rolls his eyes.

“I told you, we're not twins- we're not actually biologically related, and we're two different kinds of turtle-”

“Do you have to ruin _everything_?” Leo groans, shooting him an unimpressed look. Donnie feels bad for a second, then dons a shit-eating grin.

“Fine. At least I'm the older twin-” a hand slaps over Donnie's mouth, and he bites at Leo's fingers until Leo yelps and jumps away. Leo crosses his arms, betrayed. Donnie smiles wider.

Mikey comes up to both of them. “Can't you guys stop arguing for your birthday at least?” his face breaks into a gigantic smile when that makes Raph and Splinter start singing happy birthday. They present a very lopsided cake that looks about half-frosted in greyish icing. Mikey, somehow, smiles wider. “I made it! Dad helped. Raph stole a lot of the icing.” He thinks for a moment. “They both stole a lot of the icing.”

Leo and Donnie look at each other. “We love it, Mike,” Donnie says, and then to Raph and his dad, “you guys get pieces with the least frosting.”

Raphael and Splinter both complain, dramatic as ever. There's a lot of grumbling involved. Mikey shushes them both with a pointed look, then tells Splinter to grab a knife (they're not allowed to use the sharp ones, yet) so they can hurry up and dig in.

The cake doesn't last very long. Presents come next, of course, wrapped in some patterned paper. Leo tears into his first and holds up a pale brown cardigan and a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. The slippers are way too big for him, but Splinter is quick to assure Leo that he is a growing boy and they will fit in no time. Donnie opens his in a more methodical way, because if they are his machine parts, he's got to be careful. The paper peels away to reveal two of the parts he'd asked for, and Donnie leaps from his seat in excitement.

“You actually- you actually managed to find them!” Mikey, Raph, and Leo don't get why the parts are so great; Donnie's excitement gets them hyped up anyways. The sugar in the cake is likely to blame for that, though Splinter doesn't seem to mind when Donnie crushes him into a hug.

Splinter chuckles and pats his head. “You shouldn't doubt your dad.”

Donnie begins to ramble on about all the possibilities that have opened up thanks to the parts. He's almost forgotten about the surprise hidden under his sweater once they've all calmed down, a shift in his posture reminding him of its literal weight on his shoulders.

He stands up and clears his throat. “I know that it’s my birthday,” he says to his confused crowd, “but I've got a surprise for you guys.” He goes to pull off his sweater (in a flourish he did not practice in front of the mirror) and it gets caught on the edge of the battle shell. Donnie feels himself tipping, and _oh no_.

He lands flat on his back. Raph starts shouting. Donnie's shell isn’t just soft, it's sensitive. Falling onto his back hurts more than it should, though it's not so bad that he can't handle it. With the battle shell? It hurts less than usual, a bit of an ache- the feeling of pressing on a several-day-old bruise, instead of the normal stinging impact. Of course, his family doesn’t know that.

“Are you nuts? Are you trying to ruin our birthday?” Leo spits, grabbing one of Donnie’s arms and hauling him to his feet. Donnie shakes him off.

“It’s fine, I- Raph, stop,” he pushes his older brother away from where he’s been rubbing his back. Raph looks at his hand, then at Donnie, then back and forth a few times

“What’s up with your shell?”

“Aside from the fact he fell on it?” Leo glares at Raph.

“No, it feels weird, idiot.”

“How can his shell feel weird? It’s his shell.”

“I’m just sayin’-”

“Be quiet! Both of you!” They stop bickering and turn to Donnie. In the distraction of their squabble, he managed to get his sweater off. The battle shell gleams even in the low light of the kitchen, metal polished to near perfection. The brothers fall silent in awe, a muted woah escaping Mikey’s lips. Splinter is shocked, too, staring at Donatello like he’s grown a second head.

A minute passes by in total silence, and Donnie’s cocky smile drops from his face, unsure under their prolonged stares. He shuffles his feet, dropping his gaze.

“Uh. What do you guys think?”

“That… Thing,” Splinter starts after several beats, sounding skeptical. “What is it?” Donnie lights up.

“A battle shell,” he gestures, excited, “it covers my shell so I can be as tough as you guys. And it has a bunch of other stuff it can do, too- I’m working on designs for one that can fly-”

Mikey launches himself onto Donnie, turning him around so they can see the battle shell more clearly. Leonardo and Raph crowd in, and Splinter isn’t far behind. The brothers ask him more and more questions- _can we try it on, what does it do, will you be the world’s first flying turtle_ \- and after a while they delve into their own conversation, trying to come up with other cool enhancements for Donnie’s shell.

Donnie listens and waves off the more improbable ideas, when Splinter places a delicate hand on his shoulder. “You have always been as tough as your brothers,” he murmurs, “odd gadgets or not.”

He leaves the kitchen before Donnie can answer.

\---

There are worse things, Donnie thinks, than a prototype malfunctioning.

There are not worse things, Donnie thinks, than a prototype malfunctioning and doing the complete opposite of what it's supposed to do. Especially when the opposite of what its supposed to do is _hurt his shell_.

His shells have gotten more complex and better-built over the last few years to the point where Splinter lets him wear them around the lair whenever he wants, assured that they won’t blow up at random (it only happened three times, anyhow). His projects speed through beta versions with minimal fixes, which is impressive for an eleven-year-old. The increased power-ups in the shells give him tons of advantages in training, so he knows he’ll be able to keep up in a real fight someday. He’s always hurrying to add new functions. But in retrospect, he’s never done anything quite like this.

Flight was an exciting concept, one Donnie had in mind since he designed his first shell. He never had the right parts or tools to make it happen until recently. And, okay- maybe he did rush this one a bit.

During a simple test run in the lair, the new shell detaches from the force of the turbines- then flies around out of control. No amount of shouted override codes do the trick. Donnie has no way to shut it down. He’s just glad that his family went out to explore some other sewer pipes. The last thing he needs is his brothers seeing his spectacular failure.

He tries to think of what he can do- short of waiting for the battery to die, which would suck because then he’d need to find the parts to make _another_ battery- when the rogue shell takes a dive towards him. Shrieking, he makes a run for the nearest pipe opening.

Donnie barely goes a couple of steps when the shell slams into his back. It throws him to the ground, and he lands hard on his chest, the wind knocked out of him. The shell flies on until it bangs off a wall, one of the turbines denting, and it collapses to the ground in a shudder. He exhales in relief- at least he doesn’t have to worry about his brothers or his dad getting chased by his shell. On the other hand, he feels like he can’t catch his breath (whether that’s from the fiery spot of pain on his back or landing hard on his chest, Donnie doesn’t know) and there’s no way he can get himself and the ruined battle shell back to the lab before everyone comes home.

Donnie groans and pushes himself up. He’s got to get moving regardless. His shell won’t stop hurting no matter how long he lays on the floor, and he needs to check on his prototype, see how much of the turbine he can salvage.

Each movement sends shivers of discomfort along Donnie’s spine. By the time he’s made it to his battle shell, he’s panting- the air he managed to get back into his lungs escaping in pained little wheezes. Donnie scrubs a hand over his face in frustration. He knows he’s not going to be able to move the shell when he’s having so much difficulty moving _himself_.

He needs help.

“Dad?” He calls, hesitant. There’s no answer, not that he’s surprised. Splinter isn’t a quiet guy, and his brothers aren’t either. He would’ve heard if they were already home. Donnie realizes he doesn’t know when they’ll be back.

He settles down, careful of his injury, and inspects the battle shell. On the bright side it seems like it’s only the turbine that’s damaged- he'll only need a few parts to fix it. Satisfied that he’s done all can do for now, Donnie leans on the wall waits.

Mikey is the first to find him when they get back, startling Donnie out of a light doze.

“Donnie? What’re you doing- oh my gosh! What happened to your battle shell? What happened to you?” Mikey looks a bit like he’s about to start crying, and Donnie’s feeling a bit overwhelmed- his brother hadn’t even said hi first, like a normal person (or like a normal mutant turtle, Donnie supposes). Despite knowing that he required help, he still hoped to delay the inevitable. Mikey’s calling for their dad before Donnie gets a word out.

Splinter comes in slowly, his expression sharpening when he sees Donatello sitting on the floor.

“My son.” Splinter moves to his side, eyeing the shell. “What happened?”

“Just a malfunction. Everything’s fine- I’m a little sore though, and I can’t move this by myself, so I was waiting for you guys to get back…” Splinter nods. His gaze says he knows there’s something else, but he doesn’t press. He’s a good dad like that.

They carry the battle shell between the three of them, dull pain reigniting in the throbbing centre of Donnie’s shell. Mikey babbles on about the new sewer pipes they explored, telling his older brother that he has to map them out. “I tried to,” Mikey explains, “but all I could think about was drawing, and, well, I didn’t get a map down.” Donnie chuckles, and so do Mikey and Splinter.

Donnie’s sure he’s off scot free, when Leonardo’s shout booms across the room, “What the heck did you do to your shell?” Mikey examines the piece of tech in his hands.

“It doesn’t look that bad, Leo.”

“Not the- not that,” Leo stresses, eyes darting between Donnie and the battle shell. “His shell. His _actual_ shell.” Donnie freezes as Splinter looks at him.

“Put the shell down, Michelangelo. Donatello.” Donnie swallows as they set the shell down and Splinter moves behind him. The sharp inhale his father gives makes Donnie wince.

No avoiding it now. “How bad is it?”

“Bruised.”

“Bruised? That’s not bruised! That’s- I don’t even know what that is! It’s all black and purple and blue and ew,” Leo exclaims. Splinter says something to him, but Donnie’s not listening. Raph’s wandered into the room now too, standing next to Mikey with a worried frown on his face. Mikey is crying, cuddled into Leo’s side as Leo stares at him.

Donnie shuts his eyes. He can’t handle the weight of his brothers’ stares, or the feeling of his dad’s gaze on his back.

“It’s really nothing,” he tries when Splinter leaves the room to grab their first aid kit.

“Be quiet, Donnie.” Mikey sniffs. Leo and Raph don’t say anything at all. Donnie shrugs them off, ignoring the way it pulls at his back, and decides he won’t get caught next time (or, hopefully, he’ll make sure there is no next time).

\---

Donnie’s shells get better. They don’t malfunction anymore. He’s tough. Being a softshell doesn’t slow him down. He makes more gadgets and weapons and there’s no gap between his skills and that of his brothers’. He loves inventing, and lets that drive him to newer and better heights.

He knows that if he didn’t have his shells and his tech, he wouldn’t be able to keep pace. These feelings of inferiority stem from Donnie’s own anxiety of being hurt, of not being strong, of not being able to protect his brothers- and he knows that. Raph, Leo, and Mikey never make him feel like he’s less for what he is. His inventions and his shells save the day and his brothers countless times; they never let him forget it.

Even Splinter reassures him, sometimes, when he notices that Donnie is stewing in his own thoughts.

Yes, he’s a softshell. And Raph’s a snapping turtle, and Leo’s a red-eared slider, and Mikey’s a box turtle. They’ve all got strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes, Donnie has a hard time remembering that. However, he’s got a pretty great family (though he thinks they worry about him far too much), and they’re his biggest supporters, proud of him every step of the way. 

So he’ll build up his tech and himself, and someday he’ll realize that while he’s not like his brothers, he’s never been less than them, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Donnie, Donnie, Donnie... You're just as awesome as your brothers, man, rest assured. If you recognized the title or Donnie's sweater, kudos to you!
> 
> Come chat with me or check out my other content @donnie-fibonacci on tumblr!!


End file.
